A Silent Scream

The flame never flickers,
And time stands still.
And the dark never brightens,
And the dark never will.
I will write for your silence.
But I will scream on this page,
And I swear on this pen,
That I am louder with age!
Do you recognise my forte?
Do you choke on my pain?
It has taken me this long,
Just to bleed again.
So is this quiet enough?
Or am I writing too loud?
Can you sleep through my tears?
Are you fond of the sound?
I am a burden on strangers.
I am a stranger to you.
I am nothing but shadow.
I am nothing like you!

Who Laughs Last?

Unbalanced and torn, denied and stoned by your absence,
And I admire your pace, you are willing to space the divide.
Un-eased and unsteady, I shiver with fright in your presence.
Crushed and recycled, doubtful and petrified.
Unknowingly branded with the cinders of blame.
As you watch from the distance and revel’ my shame.
Your layers unfold, and truth be told, I prevail.
Captured true colours, my judgement correct,
My pride un-lowered, my stance erect,
Who laughs last, my dear? My honour wails

'Twas The Month Before Christmas

Christmas time is fast approaching and many of us are dusting off our Christmas Trees and decorations and rushing around the shops buying gifts for our loved ones. On Saturday, as I pulled up outside my parents house, a smile swept across my face as my eyes set upon the prettiest frosty blue fairy lights which lit up their window and all those wonderful childhood memories of good tidings flooded my heart.

You may feel it is a little early to be celebrating, but my Dad IS Father Christmas!

From September onwards, my Father suffers terrible insomnia through the excitement of trimming up the house and spoiling his family. He is usually the first in our town to decorate with outstanding displays. Yes...He is the original CHEVVY CHASE! :)

One year, he spent a whole month making a paper mache traditional fireplace, painted and frosted, just like the ones you see in the books, and beside it, in a rocking chair, sat a full-sized Santa Claus. It truely was the most amazing Christmas scene you would ever see. Better that any Santa's Grotto that I visit with my son.

For the three months leading up to Christmas, he watches three Christmas films a night, and my favourite highlight of the year, he sits all the Grandkids down, just like he did to me and my sister when we were children, and reads them the poem 'T'was The Night Before Christmas'.

My parent's house, this year, is as beautiful as ever. Every surface glistens with the season, with tinsel and boubles and snow globes and lamenta. The kitchen is under constant use with pickling vegetables and roasting chestnuts and cake baking. Even the pet cat is strutting around the house wearing a Santa hat.

Their Christmas tree is a stunning 7 foot-er lit up in blue lights - The most beautiful tree in the world!

My Dad's excitement for Christmas is highly contageous. I cannot wait to get the ladder out :)

'Twas the Night Before Christmas



by Clement Clarke Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Dasher! Now Dancer!
Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid!
On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

As He Sleeps

As he sleeps, I wait on standby,
And I jump at each murmur, and fluster with his movement.
All my wrongdoings spin through my memory like a whirlwind,
And I am overcome with culpability.
So precious.
So innocent and carefree.
I can try harder.
Each day I try harder.
Each day, he grows more,
And I can give more.
No soul more deserving.
As he sleeps, I watch in amazement.
And I shed a tear for his troubles.
And I smile at the echo of his laughter.
A lull-a-bye stirs him,
He awakes with sparkles of joy in his eyes,
And only then can I sleep,
As he sleeps.

Hell For You

Feel the cold on your skin.
I can taste the hurt that you’re breathing.
Let me help warm the pain.
I’m not the type of girl to run away.

Where’s the youth gone in your eyes?
Black and heavy. Deep with lines.
I’ll take the pain for you to sleep.
And if sleeping helps, your pain I’ll keep.

Too far away to feel.
I know, at least, to you it’s real.
I’d find it hard too.
I don’t think I could take as much as you.

You grip so hard you scar your hands.
You made it with love, but you built it with sand.
If there was only one thing I could do,
I’d take this pain away for you

We Cry

Emotionless? Then who’s are these tears?
This puddle did not fill alone.
Careless? Then why do I try?
Why do I ware my fingers to bones?



Hard work? Who has the hardest job?
Who is actually living through this?
Draining? Then why do you smile everyday?
Why, when I leave, is it me that you miss?

Empty? Then who is loving you now?
Who is helping you through?
Clueless? Then how did I get where I am?
And how am I leading you?

Tick, Tock!

Apprehensive and impetuous, I wait, as the days and nights distort into a mountain of dust.
The clock is a metronome for my anxieties. My nemesis!
Timing is crucial and so much lies on the outcome…
Hanging on a single thread of sanity, I skim the edge of reason, Encircling echolalia and screaming for an escape of repetitiveness!

LET GO!

Dumbfounded by inner strength, I soldier on.
Surrendering is not an option, these days,
Yet, lessons learned are greatly appreciated,
And I shall be forever indebted for this opportunity.

Crows

The night is blurred,
As the mist settles amongst these hills,
And the moon is smothered and choked.
This colourless hour ceases to inflict a memory,
And thoughts provoke nothing but dreary echoes of smog and dust,
Of this deadlocked village.

Another effortless day has passed,
Through the trickles of serenity,
As the drizzle drowns out the movement of traffic.
Children confined to television sets,
And the swings swing emptily in the playground.

Autumn leaves, now no longer crisp,
Lay decaying and sludgy in streamy gutters along the roadside,
And the trees stand morbidly bare.
Litter scuffles along the pavements,
And black birds huddle together on chimney pots,
Dreaming of sunshine.

The flames crackle tonight,
And comfort me.
Perchance tomorrow, the sun will shine.
Perchance the snow shall fall.
Perchance puddles will fill and fill.

Nevertheless, tonight, I sleep and dream of sea and sand.

A silence for our heroes

Memorial day tomorrow. A day of regret and grief for the brave who have lost their lives at war. The marching bands will play and the country will be silenced to spare a thought for the lives we have lost in battle. It is a beautiful mark of respect to pay, but it does make you wonder, why only for one minute per year!?

I wear my badge with pride. I have a 'Ban The Bomb' sign tattooed on my body. I had the tattoo the same week that America declared war on Afganistan. I cried rivers that week. I could not sleep through the panic attacks and worry from the pictures on the news. I was 18 years old at the time and could not understand why, in this day in age, we would resort to such violence. With all the blood that had been shed in previous carnage, lessons were not learned and once again, we waved Fairwell to our loved ones; some Goodbye forever.

Eight years on and the blood-shed still dominates the news. Each week, a tear falls for more loss. There are no answers nor comfort for the genocide; No motive other than, as far as I can see, 'an eye for an eye'. I want to understand. I want to believe that this is 'right', How can anyone look a person in the eye, that they have never met before and commit the ultimate?

These soldiers, our heroes, give the non-returnable gift of sacrifice and all we have to offer is one minute's silence a year.



One last chance to save a life,

One more day to go,

Have you ever heard of a hero?

A little ray of sunshine on a cloudy day...

I have finally received a copy of last month's magazine and am proud to say, I am now OFFICIALLY a published author. I am too shy to tell the world and had to get it off my chest so

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOO!!!

It looks so funky, with my bio and picture alongside, surrounded by famous authors and psychologists that I read of everyday. The title has been changed, but I do not mind that one bit. I finally have the portfolio I need to get going. I have been asked to write another which has to be submitted in 10 days time. The topic is 'talent' and I have a great idea. I am already enjoying writing this so much more than the last. I have finally 'broken the ice',

So, what's next...?

Well, I have been asked to talk on a radio station in America at the end of the month. I am still unsure whether I am capable of this because of my lack of confidence and nervous stutter, but if I can make it through that, it may inspire me to approach something new.

I am so grateful to have been given the chance to speak so loudly, to such a large audience! =) The ones who know me will understand how special that is to me! ;o) It is a sparkle of sunshine on a cloudy day!

THANK YOU!

Can't tell the bottle from the mountain top...

The highlight of my week is getting dressed up and meeting up with my friends on a Saturday night. We British women are notorious for our ability to hold our drink and, although I hate the feeling of being drunk, I do like to have a few Vodka and Red Bulls. This fortnight, I have tried going out and not drinking, but sitting in a pub full of drunken friends when your sober is a whole new experience. :oS The music seems louder, the lights seem brighter and everyone seems far more intoxicated. Needless to say, I failed miserably in my mission to stay sober. The stress of people falling into me, spilling drinks over me and laughing far too loudly in my ears drove me insane, and it was not long before I was drowning my worries in Budweiser.

The worst part of staying sober in a pub has to be Karaoke. Oh, the noise!! Any other week, I am practically dancing on the tables in appreciation, but to the 'spare prick in the wedding', Karaoke is hell on earth!!

I have come to the conclusion that a sober barman/woman is almost as saintly as a surgeon!

*nurses the hangover from hell*

Followers...

Hello. I just wanted to say a big thank you to my followers for the comments. I have only just noticed them. I apologise that I have not yet replied and I will do very soon.

THANK YOU! =)

Tempted and drawn to you like a force.
Innocently lost within my own thoughts.
You dominate me now and I love it, of course,
But if I ran away, it would be best for us both.

Recognise something of myself in your eyes.
An instant connection in a shameless disguise.
A sparkle of freedom where I'd like to hide.
An indecent escape from routine and pride,

Rescue me, mirror man, persuade me to come.
Wrap me in comfort and beg me to run.
Reflect my dreams and together we strum,
On the strings of our destiny, my favourite one.

And I'll follow you.

Wise words

Wise Words...

I have spent the day driving in the rain, hypnotised by the windscreen wipers, drowning out the sound of the mis-firing engine with my favourite Foo Fighter's album. I have been in 'my own little world' all day after a sleepless night and, despite not waking up feeling good, I have not had a bad day. I am currently curled up on the chair beside the computer with a glass of vodka, a cigarette and a smile on my face.

I started writing a new song last night. I have not written a new song for a while. I can never write when I am happy for some reason. I am quite happy with it so far. I have a few ideas. I am getting used to being on my own, slowly. A few weeks ago, I was sent a postcard from a friend. It inspires me. Hope you like.





"You're braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think"

Dream a little dream...

I've not written for days and my head is about to explode. The dreams I have had lately are really playing on my mind. I cannot even write what most of them are about which is SOOOO frustrating, but the dream that woke me up last night was a flash of a man hanging from a noose, dangling over a grave (shudder).

I cannot work out why, after seven years of recurring dreams, I am dreaming such weird nightmares. I used to believe in everything. I would have made sense of it a few years ago, but now... I don't know... I have forgotten who I am, who I was and who I want to be.

This year, I have lost my first cousin, my oldest friend and, in many ways, myself. My head is FUCKED!

I am looking for something... I'm not sure what... I'm lost.

I am not only dreaming nightmares. I am dreaming amazing stuff too! Those dreams are playing on my mind the most...

I have been trying to write the next article for the magazine, but I cannot even write sense in this blog. I give in

.

And they say that a hero will save us!

Dear you.

I try my hardest every day to be everything you need, and I can only apologise for the times when I cannot be that, but I hope that you know that each day I try harder, each day I grow as a person, and each day I love you more.

We have never had the easiest of relationships (who does apart from in the movies?), but it has only made us stronger.
With strength from all that I have gained along the way, the admiration that I have for your heroism, and the bond that holds us together, we can get through this and only gain as a whole.

You're my Hero!

I will always be your Gem!

Guess what...?

Yes. That's right... more bad news =o(

This year hates me!

MrT, my lifelong friend, my partner of four years, my fiance, my better half, my world, has been suffering with back-ache for five whole months. That sounds like a common complaint - I know. At first, that is exactly what I thought. But after the first few weeks, I helped him to the hospital to check things out. The nurse at the hospital not only insulted us by telling him that she would not examine him as he had not suffered any form of accident, but she also sent him home with not even painkillers.

I have to tell you that at this point, he had been stuck lying on his back on the floor for two whole weeks, screaming, full throat, a scream that I have only ever heard in horror films - The Texas Chainsaw Massacre springs to mind!

Getting him into the car was hard enough, but having to drive him home, knowing there was no help for him near killed me inside.

A few weeks passed and his pain become worse. Trip to the hospital number two was far more severe than the first. As like the first visit, unable to even sit down in the waiting area due to his agony, after a hours wait, propped up against a wall for support, we had to practically beg the Doctor for an Xray. We were informed that the Xray showed nothing and he was once again sent home to suffer his pain alone. This time, he was given painkillers, but no advice what-so-ever.

After two months had past, he woke up one morning and somehow made his way to the doctor's surgery. The Doctor arranged for MrT to see a physiotherapist. MrT was in so much pain leaving that surgery, that he only made it as far as his Dad's house, a street away, and was stuck there for a week.

The physio examined MrT and diagnosed him with bulged disks in his spine - A common complaint amongst young men. He also showed MrT a few exercises which, he said, would correct this problem.

The weeks rolled on, and the poor man was getting worse, fighting with all his strength to over-come his pain, with no success. He visited the Doctor over and over and he finally referred him to a specialist.

After a thorough examination, the specialist told MrT that he has no movement in his spine, no reflexes, pro-lapsed nerves and that he was born with a rare deformity in his spine where his coxic bone (spelling) has grown invertably, and that he could end up living the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

Can you imagine the thoughts running through this 26 year old's mind after receiving this news? I do not have to explain to you how depressed he has been. The specialist booked him in for a MRI scan which took 7 weeks for an appointment.

This morning, he went to his appointment alone. I am not sure why he went alone when we had planned that I would take him. I assume it was down to nerves. After the scan, he was told to wait around for the Doctor to see him. The Doctor explained...

He does not have a bulged disk
He was not born with a rare deformity
He does not have a common complaint

What he does have is an untreated infected in his two spinal disks which have caused an abscess. Poor MrT only needed antibiotics all this time, and now it has become so bad that he has been admitted to hospital for emergency antibiotics that need to be injected into his system. If this does not work, he will have to have a lumber puncture, which could cause BRAIN DAMAGE if all does not go to plan!

Oh dear!

For five whole months he has become unemployed and helpless. He is depressed, unable to do anything for himself. Many, many nights, I have sat up with him holding his hand as he screams in pain. I have never seen such suffering.

As I left the hospital today with a lump in my throat, I prayed to God for this to be the end of his discomfort. I do not pray very often, but I hope this one counts!

What ever happened to Conkers?

Today, MrT and I decided to take Zed Conker Picking in a park a couple of miles away from where we live. It was another crisp autumn day; a great day to go for a walk. We walked the full circumference of the park kicking crispy leaves, photographing squirrels and ducks and geese, searching every tree for fresh Conkers, yet we found none - Not even a green spiky shell, despite the many Horse Chestnut trees that are spread all around.

After a whole hour searching, we made our way back to the car, disappointed and curious as to where all the conkers were. On our way home, MrT decided to ask the park keeper why the trees had no conkers. The park keeper told him that they had injected the trees to stop the conkers growing to deter children from climbing the trees.

I am quite angry that they would do this. Not only does it prevent the trees from reproducing, but conker picking is a tradition. Every child I know grew up looking forward to the fall to collect the conkers for competitions with their friends where they pierce a hole through the conker, thread a shoe lace through the middle and take it in turns to hit their opponent's conker until one cracks and falls off the string. It is a simple form of enjoyment and harmless fun. I understand the health and safety issues with tree climbing, but how can they inject a tree to stop it from baring fruit?

Later on that day, as we were all sitting down eating our dinner that evening, there was a loud thud on the window. I ignored it at first as I knew it was the children in the street playing Knock Knock Danger, just as I did as a child, but the bangs got louder and louder and I feared they were going to crack our window. I went outside and gave them a telling off. I do feel sorry for the older people who live either side of our house as this must be terrifying for them, but I cannot help but wonder what our town is coming too. It is no wonder the children are up to no good.

This year alone has seen the closure of many facilities for youngsters, with the threat of our sport center closing. We have lost all of our park keepers due to lack of funding for wages. Our park, which was once immaculately kept, now lies stripped bare of all it's beauty, and where once it was lined with seasonal flowers, a lush bowling green for the older citizens and a proud war memorial statue, is now drowned in graffiti and vandalism. It seems like our children are the last things on peoples minds. They may be a nuisance, but it is not their fault when we cannot even provide them with a nice place to play.

Caerphilly Castle

Had a lovely day out today. MrT, Zed and I had a walk around the grounds of Caerphilly Castle. The sun was shining, the air was fresh and we could not have picked a more perfect day for a visit.

Aaaaah-Chooo!

Quarantined with a common cold, I can not think of a more boring couple of days of my life. Awake all night and asleep all day, overdosed on football, sitcoms and soaps, stuffing my chops with chocolate, crisps and any other left overs in the, now bare, kitchen cupboards, frustrated by the fact that I cannot drive my new-ish car due to lack of power steering and aching limbs, I am nearing insanity. The good part, which is actually not that great, is that MrT also has a cold and we are quarantined together.

...Groan

.
.
.

All grown up?

I am considering finding a job. Yes, I actually said the words "I am considering finding a job". I am 26 years old with a family of my own and I have never had a full time job in my life. That may rile some of you tax-payers and I personally do not blame you, but before you curse me, I have to tell you that for the past ten years, I have been caring for my disabled son, and for a long time, I was also a single mother. But now I spend so much time sat at home waiting for school to finish, I have been thinking very hard about getting out there and becoming more than an insomniac. The problem is, I have spent so much time alone in the past ten years that I am petrified and I do not know what to expect. I have no GCSEs other than D grades. The only qualifications I do have are OCNs in counselling skills and my driver's licence. I have done a lot of voluntary work including administrator of a cancer support and transport organisation, youth worker and running the Asperger's Awareness community, but does that appeal to anybody??

I may have mentioned this in an earlier post, but I still do not know what I want to be when I grow up. All that I am good at is being a mam and personal output for my creativity. I have never really thought that hard about a career. I am an 'old fashioned mother'. My priorities have always been my family, running my home and seeing my friends once a week. I am not an ambitious person at all, yet the thought of stacking shelves until I am in my 70s terrifies me. I suppose it is because I have had so long to think about it.

Two years ago, I attended my annual interview with the job centre and I suggested finding work. The gentleman who was interviewing me advised me to stay at home and not worry about it. At the time, I was thinking about using my computer skills and becoming a secretary. His reply completely caught me off-guard and I went home feeling rather shitty, contemplating between whether he was suggesting my son needed me or he just could not be bothered to help.

I have attended job interviews in the past, and each time, I was given the job, but obstacles and situations have always prevented me from going any further.

But now, I think, it is time for me to set an example to my son and to make something of myself...

I just have to think harder about where I would be needed.

She Drove Me To Daytime Television...

I am lost for words. This is my fifth attempt of writing a blog today. I get one paragraph into writing and delete every word. I am only writing in fear of writer's block again. I could not settle to write a song all weekend, I cannot settle to begin another article for the magazine and now I cannot write a blog. I think I need to get out more. I have not left the house again today. Once again, I awoke in pain from my neck to my ribs. Once again, I have been confined to the couch. Once again, I have not been able to play football with Zed, or kiss MrT for longer than a second, or finish painting, or use the computer for longer than 10 minutes. Once again, I feel like SHIT! I am not experiencing life at all right now and I am suffering creatively.

Ahhh, that feels better. I apologise for complaining about my life.

What I have done today is watch 'umpteen' TV shows; Pointless, The Weakest Link, Eggheads, The Simpsons, Masterchef, Eastenders, Coming Of Age... Then I become board of TV and decided to look at the BBCi player for a new series that started last week that I missed. The program is by Baby Cow productions, which I am a fan of. Baby Cow productions are the makers of Ideal and Marion and Jeff and many other great comedy dramas. I settled at the computer and tuned in on the BBC website and watched episode 1 with very few problems.
When it comes to episode 2, the player would stop after the first minute or so. I refreshed the page over and over, but it still would not work. I decided to download the player for use on my computer. The player itself took no time at all to download, but the program I was trying to watch took 45 minutes. When it finished downloading, I made myself a nice cup of coffee, rolled myself a ciggy and re-settled myself into the computer chair.

ARRRRGGGGHHHH!

It is still getting stuck at the same part. After clearing all my programmes from my computer (Tweetdeck, Google Earth, Photoshop) and it still not working, I gave up and deleted the player in temper. It has left me so mad, I feel like screaming!

So, all-in-all, I have not had a great day. I hate complaining about my life, but believe me, if I had ANYTHING better to offer in my blog today, I would be writing about it.

...there's always tomorrow...

Blast From The Past.

I have been reminiscing today. I found an old suitcase full of my poetry, songwriting, short stories, brian-storms, diaries and rejection letters that I have not seen for many years. I have spent the last few hours reading through them, laughing and cringing. I thought that the suitcase was lost when we moved to our current address, along with the rest of my past, but I found it buried beneath a pile of records on top of my wardrobe. The papers date back to my school days, with so many memories I would rather forget, but reading them only makes me appreciate the life that I have now. I wrote this when I was very young. It made me smile today...

Trip the colours; Catch the light,
Skip the hours through the night,
Ride the waves, the sunset blinds,
Let your thoughts guide you through time.


Pulse rate dances chill-out beats,
And visions enhance sweet deceits.
Even flow, I feel so dense,
Every movement; So intense.


I’m happy here on this cloud alone,
Drifting a hundred miles from home.
But morning nears, and I dread the land,
And all these thoughts get out of hand.

I am really happy to have found that suitcase as I lost it all once when my computer decided to blow up. I had spent hours copying it all onto my hard drive and did not back up my files. It broke my heart.

WATERWORLD

Beside the banks of river flow,
Where the sparkle of the dew-drops glow,
Where wildlife rests beneath the stars,
And rocks of moss halt where they are.
Where eagles prey and know their rule,
Where eaglets learn to sweep and swoon,
Where mother nature owns all in sight,
Is the very place I love to write.

The sound of water trickles stones,
And shivers run throughout my bones,
This sun-trap echoes crickets clicks,
In my mind, the rhythm sticks.
So placid here, in natures trail,
I leave behind the town’s morbid reign,
And breath the air of summer sun,
And catch the day as first begun.

I am blank.

My mind is blank today and I cannot think what to write, how to write or why to write. I fled to my parents house when I woke, to tell them of my good news, yet the sympathetic smiles and rolling eyes crushed me. Ring a bell? I do not hold it against them, but I was so excited to tell the world last night, that I did not sleep. I lay awake grinning at the TV for what seemed like forever, and was even tempted to send my parents a text message, Never mind.

Now that it is finally done, I cannot help thinking 'What now?'

I have wanted to take that step for ten years, and at times, I have obsessed over it. But now it has happened, I am left wondering WHY?

I STILL do not know 'what I want to be when I grow up'. I never was one to make plans, but the risk with taking each day as it comes is being left disorientated and dizzy when that day has come and gone. And right now, I am disorientated and dizzy.

I have no sense of 'imagination' and perhaps that is why I cannot plan my future. I am a dreamer of cold, hard truth and reality. Black and white, right and wrong; no blurry inbetweens.

I am uncomplicated in a complicated way.

I am blank.
,
,
,
,

This is me

This is me

The mirror was once compared to my life. I was told to remember how I made it. I started from the centre. The centre represents myself. Next came the shape. The shape represents how I have chased my ambition and goals. The pieces that filled up the missing parts represents my family and loved ones; the ones who have helped me to shape my life. The colours that were once dark and dull, but now shine brightly reflects the contrast of past and present.

This mirror takes centre stage in my house as a reminder that, even though I was once broken, things do get better.

Great News - Article accepted!

Great news!

The article has been accepted and will be in September's issue. I cannot express how amazing that feels. My first ever published article. Me, Gem, a published writer. I have previously had two poems published, but that does not compare to this. It is almost 4am and I want to tell the world. Finally, something I can be proud of. Finally, I have something I can show Zed when he is older. =)

Cop-Out! - Article Submitted - The shame I feel...

I have just sent off the article for the magazine and my insides are doing somersaults. I never intended it to be so personal, and I am suddenly feeling very disappointed in myself, but truth be known, I am thoroughly relieved that it is finally out of the way. I had written the article a while back and I was not sure whether I should submit it or not, but I edited it a little and decided that it was now or never. I dread the reply. I always run and hide from criticism. I am a coward for the truth. I still find it hard to believe that someone would have faith in me to write for such a wide audience, and if I have learned anything from this experience, it is that I am nowhere near ready enough to be writing this type of material. My dream of writing for my local newspaper has been smashed to pieces, and I am left feeling not only disheartened, but insulted by my own ambition. Unrealistic is an understatement.

I feel like automatically deleting the reply when it comes. I really am shaking from head to foot and I don't think I have felt this nervous since exam results day in school. Who was I trying to kid? I dropped out of school at 15 years of age and spent my adult life watching repeats of Only Fools and Horses.

Mellow Yellow

It feels much more like Autumn today than it did yesterday. The air is fresh and the weight of summer is distant. The fields on the mountainside are slowly changing in colour from lush green to pale yellow, the sky is blue and vibrant and October is fast approaching. I love this time of year; the calm before the storm with party season on the horizon. 98 days until Christmas and the countdown begins, bringing Halloween, Bonfire night and Harvest.

Thursday brought me a smile. I awoke refreshed and bouncy. My mind is much more clear today and the week's events are far behind me. I have had an urge to flee this valley all day and feel a road trip coming. Wednesday, I was invited to join a camera club. I love this idea. Finally, I have an 'excuse' to take pictures and with the colours in my surroundings, there could not be a better time to throw myself back into photography. It was Wayne's idea. Wayne is someone who has lived two streets away from me all of my life, but we did not get talking until I made a group on Facebook dedicated to the place that we live. He suggested that we have a weekly theme to base our photographs, and he will pass on all the information that he picks up from the photography course which he is attending. I am very excited and hope this is not a white elephant.

Kiss and the kittens are doing well. They are still cuddled up in MrT's dressing gown, no further than a foot away from me, wrapped in the warmth of their mother's fur. Occasionally, they squirm around and roll onto their backs. Still so weak and floppy, it is amusing seeing them wriggle back onto their bellies and swim through the fabric back towards the smell of milk. They are no bigger than an adult mouse and I could probably hold them all in one hand at once.

I visited my old comprehensive school again today to pick Zed up from play scheme. It still feels like home, even after ten years, and it is hard to believe that, come September, Zed will be attending that school. It has not changed. I felt like running through those corridors and dancing on the wooden benches like a school-girl. I miss those carefree days so much.

Well, I had better get started on that magazine article. Just 6 days lift until submission deadline and I still have not made a start.

Wish me luck.

Bye x

X-ray vision?

Today has been much better. I slept all night, slept all day and slept some more. It is now 2am and I am wide awake. My body clock is berserk right now.

I realised today that the article has to be submitted in less than one week, and still, I cannot even think of a title, let alone of completing it on time. I can always submit next month, but I am worried that if I postpone it again this time, I will postpone it forever. My heart is not in this at all. Maybe tomorrow...?

All day, I have had a 'Thursday' feeling, and when you think the weekend starts tomorrow, it is quite disheartening to discover it is not, and you have to re-live Thursday once again. I have no plans this weekend. I have no money to go anywhere or do anything interesting. After the two past great weekends, this one is really going to drag.

I have been reading other people's Blogs today. I wish I was interesting enough to write like those. I wish I could post photographs of discoveries on my wild adventures and have thousand of readers leaving comments. My favourite of the blogs that I read today was of a 'Bearded Man' who discovered he had a very rare eye condition which made his eyesight extraordinarily sharp. Why can't I have X-ray vision? Maybe then I could deliver something better than a Blog of how I slept all day...

Oh well. This is all I have for now. Will hopefully have more exciting news for you next time.

Until then, Hwyl! o/

Newborns

A picture of the newborn Kittens; Fraggle, Ghost and Johnson.

Please God, no more Deaths, Birth or Football this week...

I cannot put into words how today has left me feeling. I cannot even tell you if today has been a good day or a bad day. All I can say is that I am glad it is finally over, and even though it has not been the worst day of my life, it certainly has not been the best day either.

I spent the whole of last night awake with my cat Kiss. She was showing all the signs of labour, and I did not want to leave her alone to have the kittens. With the sad passing of Patrick Swayze, Twitter was flooded with R.I.Ps and tributes, and I was completely wrapped up in the hype. I 'Tweeted' my thoughts and feelings to pass the time away as MrT slept peacefully on the sofa, and as the sun crept through the curtains at dawn, I knew that the day ahead of me was going to be very eventful.

At 7:45am, the alarm disturbed me from my trance, and after setting Zed off to school, I cuddled up under the duvet on my computer chair to catch up with the rest of the waking world on Facebook, It was then I saw the dreaded initials once again that I had been reading all night - R.I.P, only this time, they were not followed with 'Patrick Swayze', but by a friends name - A friend I had shared my childhood with. Gavin.

I was told by the status holder, that he had been involved in a motorbike accident, and sadly, he did not make it.

The remainder of the day is now mearly a blur in my mind, I took flowers to the place of the accident, and lay them on the side of the road with a note. On the note I wrote my regrets. I left with a lump in my throat and a tear on my eye for the last catch up that we promised each other which we never kept.

I returned home, weary and head-fucked, to find the living room smothered in blood, and a proud new Mum of one snuggled up on the settee with a miniature new arrival. I was heartbroken that I was not there for Kiss when she needed me, but after cleaning up the blood, I cuddled up next to her on the sofa for the next four hours, and supported her through the birth of Kitten number two and Kitten number three.

I am physically, mentally and emotionally drained. Every part of me aches, and my thought go out to Gavin's family.

For the final time today, R.I.P to two very heroic influences in my life.

Nos Da

Same old, same old.

Had a fun Saturday. Revisited that bar. The atmosphere was electric and I somehow managed to get myself drunk by 9pm, and had to stop drinking to stop the room from spinning. I hate feeling drunk. I met up with an old friend. She asked me if I will be her wedding photographer. I am pretty flattered, and I will really look forward to that day. The best thing about The Anchor is the beer garden. There are not many pubs with beer gardens in my area, and that is annoying with the smoking ban. At least in a beer garden, you can sit down and socialise, instead of leaning up against a wall outside the pub and looking like a hooker. And, not only does The Anchor have a beer garden, but it also has a tunnel which leads to the cellar, which you can hide under to have a cigarette when it rains.

Sunday was not such a great day. Not only did I have the hangover from hell, but MrT was ill, and was showing signs of Swine Flu. I spent most of the day running up and down the stairs checking that he was OK. He slept until 5:30pm. It turns out that MrT cannot handle his alcohol, and it was not Swine Flu as I thought, but a hangover that he would not admit to. TUT TUT!

I am not going out next Saturday night. I am going to catch up on The X Factor, but I can not wait until next time. It has been so nice to not be ill and to see my friends. It has given me the boost I needed.

Submission Collision

My mind is due to explode!

I write. I have written ever since I can remember. I may not be of much use vocally, but words are my passion.

SO, WHY IS IT THAT WHENEVER I AM ASKED TO WRITE, MY MIND CRAMPS?

For the first time in my life, I have been praised for my efforts and invited to write for a magazine. I can write as freely as I please, and as often as I wish, and suddenly, I cannot write a sentence. I feel like a huge thumb is pressing my forehead, restricting my creativity. My body is ecstatic, my brain is in meltdown, and yet, I sit here, scraping all I can gather in a pathetic attempt to break this restraint.

Perhaps, this is not me.

Perhaps, the topic is too truthful. Can I really write as freely as I wish? That means I would have to face matters that I am not ready to face.

Writing is a lonely past-time, and nobody is holding my hand.

That's the answer - Nobody is holding my hand, but I hold then pen! The pen needs my support!

Can I do that?

My pen has been my best friend since day 1. I can do that.

What if what I write is irrelevant? What if it does not satisfy what is required? What if it is ANOTHER pathetic attempt?

FAIL!

COME ON GEM! YOU CAN DO THIS!

So, I put pen to paper. My mind still wanders, and words fly carelessly around, lost and bewildered, and I am closer to breaking point.

I never did cope well under pressure. I combust! I feel the bubbles rise and the steam amount, and writing is now the last thing on my mind...

I NEED A BREAK!

Anchors Away...

For the first time in eighteen very long months, my 'second home' reopened last night, refurbished, and as wonderful as that tearful last night before it was closed down. It really is not a good time for businesses in our country at the moment with the state of our economical affairs, and far more pubs are closing down than there are opening.

Six years ago, The Anchor, in many ways, changed me, and redirected my aim in life, and could not have reopened at a better time. Last night was such a boost for me. The smell of fresh paint on the walls still lingers around my senses and reminds me of new beginnings.

To see those doors open again, to sit in the beer garden amongst friends, and to finally get the chance to sing along to Journey's 'Don't Stop Believing', just one more time, is like a dream come true. I am easily pleased, but pleased, all the same!

Today

It is cold this morning. The air circulating my room bites my hands as I type, the wind is whistling through the badly fitted door to the garden, and I am wrapped up safe in a blanket. I did not sleep last night. I had problems that needed sorting and blogs to write.

I found a friend online. We chatted all night and we discovered that we had a lot in common. I feel a lot happier having had contact with civilisation, even if it was through my keyboard.

My aches have eased for now. I feel, in myself, much more flexible and relaxed. The dosage now lessened, and my weary head longs for a decent sleep.

Will not, Cannot

How can being small cause me such pain? Something I have absolutely no control over. Will I ache like this forever? Will I have to take painkillers all of my life? I awoke today to even more pain - Pains to painful to deal with. Am I cursed? Is this Karma? If it is, I beg forgiveness. I have spent many nights wondering what it is in my life that I have done so bad, but can think of anything that would deserve such misfortune.


I HAVE to recover.


To some people, I am nothing - To others, I am everything!


Almost two weeks sat in the same position, but I am only getting worse - feeling worse.


My house remains a mirror image of my insides - Untidy, unclean and unloved. I cannot bath again today. I cannot drive through the countryside or walk to a shop. Another 24 hours trapped within these walls, deserted at the top of a very long hill - in some sense, at the very bottom. But on I'll plod, and I will not give in!


I cannot give in!

Let Down

After a flying visit to see the doctor yesterday, I was sent to hospital and spent the day getting poked, prodded and propped up on what was called a bed but seemed more like a bench to me - to be sent home at 4pm still undiagnosed and as oblivious to what is causing me pain as I was before I left in the morning. During my stay, boredom sent me to sleep for a hour, making today very uncomfortable with back-ache. All-in-all, much worse today! =(

Breath Of Courage

I have an appointment to see the Doctor in just over a hour. I have been putting this off for a year. I have not slept all night - Or to be exact, I haven't slept for a year. I am petrified of bad news.

I have never been brave when it comes to truth. I preach how I do not 'get' fantasy, but I am beginning to wonder if I really do exist in what everybody else knows as reality. I convince myself that things are fine; I occupy my brain with different distractions, but today, I have a feeling that I will be hitting the ground with a gigantic thud!

I am finally feeling sleepy. I have been waiting for this wave of exhaustion for what seems like forever, and now it is finally here, I have to face the public. That dreaded waiting room; The horrendous 'Next Please' buzzer; the germs, the sniffs, the coughs, the gossip....

Arrrrgggghhhhh!

My brain aches to rest. My thoughts crave ease.

what will be the result.... ?

...We'll soon find out!

Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you...

August bank holiday closes, and Autumn approaches. Not long until Zed returns to school. I've dreaded this week for a while. Why does September always hit so hard?

It's change, and I hate change!

Having Zed home makes me feel safe... I always cry when the holidays end, as odd at it may be. Most mothers I know get the flags out this time of year. I fear Thursday morning. I panic and worry. This time next year, he will be changing schools - The BIG school. The years have flown, and it uneases me.

Lost in a world of webs

Since I fell ill a year ago, the one thing that has kept me from climbing the walls is my curiosity with the World Wide Web. Not only has it been, at times, my only contact with aquaintances outside of my family circle, but I have become interested - OBSESSED, even, with the ability to learn more about the world outside of these four walls.

I was 16 years old when I first met my son - Just four days after the last of the two GCSEs that I sat, and, with no regrets, that is as far as my education stretched... And my, how the world has evolved since those school compulsory I.T lessons that I avoided ten years ago!

Not only did I set up the Asperger's Awareness community, but I discovered a whole new meaning of open-mindedness. Facebook is to blame. That little web of social destruction has a lot to answer for! My passion for writing was revived, and I have forever since, craved the space to set my creativity unleashed, uncensored and free!

...And suddenly, I find myself lost in a world of Plurks, Twits, Blogs, Spaces, Feeds, Readers and Discussions. Suddenly, I am dizzy and over-run with ability. Suddenly, I'm nobody... Just a puddle of fonts and smilies.

STOP THE WORLD... I WANT TO GET OFF!

Not such a great week

Ok, not the most happiest of first posts, but I need to vent.

I've not had the greatest of weeks to say the very least - I've not had the greatest of years to be truthfully honest. Ever heard of a Pneumothorax? Pfft, neither had I until exactly one year ago. I'm 26 years old, fit as a fiddle, and the one people turn to for help and support, but one year ago, after a week away on holiday with my son and fiance, I started getting a painful sensation in my chest. I assumed I had pulled a muscle, and despite the strain, I carried on a normal. Then one evening, the pain worsened, and I became short of breath. I waited for my better half to get home from work, and he whisked off to A&E.

It turned out that my lung had collapsed. HOW? My lung had torn and air had escaped. The escaped air was blocked inside my chest and had crushed my lung so badly, I was finding it difficult to breathe. I have a very vivid memory of the 'Plunge' that the Dr inserted into my chest to remove the air. Umpteen plunges later, I was sent to the hospital ward, given an oxygen mask and told I may be discharged the next morning.

WOW! I couldn't believe it!... ME???

Yes I smoke. Yes I drink. Yes I have experimented, but nowhere near as much as the next person. Why me at 26 years old?

Apparently, there's a medical term for it. SPONTANEOUS PNUEMORORAX.

This is a mystery as this usually affects tall, skinny men, such as basket ball players. Obviously, I'm female and although I am very thin, I am just 5ft tall.

It's been an agonising year. I've had ups and downs. Mostly downs - Not being able to play football with, wrestle with, and carry my ten year old son has hurt more than my chest, although, the pain goes away for a while.

But this week, the pain has come bad twice as bad as the day I was first admitted to hospital.

There is still air there that is 'supposed to' SOMEHOW disappear into my blood stream, but I have a terrible feeling that it has crushed my lung again. So for five whole days, I have been laid up on the settee, trying my hardest to recover.

I cannot fly on an aeroplane for three years, I cannot carry anything heavy, stretching hurts and the alternative is an operation to GLUE the tear in my lung =\

20 something chest Xrays in one year, God knows how many hospital visits and minus every friend I ever had, I'm beyond DOWN IN THE DUMPS!

What next?

Who knows...

Is There Anybody Out There? - Testing Testing 123

Last week, I posted a blog on Myspace asking for advice on getting followers for Blogger. I have been here for a few months now and despite having a few followers, I am still yet to receive a comment on any of my posts. I do not expect to be flooded with comments, but it seems that nobody is actually reading. This is not putting me off at all as I LOVE blogging, but I was just wondering if anybody does read.

If you are reading this, please leave a smiley, just for me to know. I would REALLY appreciate it.